Forgetting
by Let-it-lie
Summary: Sometimes it is too hard for a nation to cope with their pain and sorrow alone; to choose which memories to keep, and which to destroy.


**Update: I don't really like this story anymore, since I wrote it at a time when I was still forcing myself to ship LietPol. Reading through it, you can probably tell that I was dying to burst into EstLiet all the way through. It's full of EstLiet hints, and is probably one-sided EstLiet. **

**I was going to take it down, but I think that I'll leave it up just to show you all that you shouldn't force yourself to ship something that you don't really like. If you came here to read EstLiet, I've actually written an EstLiet story which you can read if you want to.**

Forgetting

* * *

_Sometimes it is too hard for a nation to cope with their pain and sorrow alone; to choose which memories to keep, and which to destroy._

* * *

The fire burned, blinding and destructive. He held out the papers, his hands shaking with anticipation. They were his life; his diaries, letters, photographs. He was letting them go.

He held them so close to the flames that the edges singed and crumbled, bits of his past fluttering downwards, quickly absorbed by the flames. His hands still shook, but he held his body steady.

"I must move on, let go."

The words fell from his lips as if they were nothing; as if they didn't drive a deep wedge through his heart, concealed only by his desperate stance.

They thought that he was weak, that he had no hope as a country. They didn't understand how it felt to be broken slowly; to have your soul damaged time after time by so many.

His eyes gazed down at the intricate fire, his brain transfixed by the patterns. In this, he had to be strong. He could not let any emotions show.

Time seemed to stand still, for he made little movement. Silence fell, albeit the constant crackling of the fire.

He was startled out of his trance by the sudden creaking of the door, a darkened figure appearing beneath the frame. Lithuania's head snapped round, but before he could register the intruder, one of the photographs slipped from his hands and was picked up and carried by the flames, spinning in a wild rebellion against destruction.

With a strangled cry of protest, Lithuania quickly grabbed the fallen photograph from the fire, dropping it on the floor and stamping on it repetitively to quench the flames. The quick movement heated his hands, but did not burn them. Slowly, and with a little dread, he bent down to retrieve the damaged paper. As he registered the content, his eyes pooled with foolish tears. "Damn you, Poland."

* * *

From across the room, the slim figure of Estonia cautiously pushed open the door and surveyed the scene. He immediately felt pity for but also slight fascination at the nation bent down on the floor.

In one fluid motion, he strode over to Lithuania's side and slowly wrapped his arms around the other.

"Estonia?"

Lithuania turned his head slowly, his face ashen. He couldn't say that the nation's arrival came as a surprise to him; he had in fact invited Estonia round to discuss 'the economy', but while waiting for him had got so carried away by his memories that he had forgotten.

Estonia reached down to pick up the slightly singed photograph, glancing quickly at the content. Seeing what had happened, he turned to Lithuania to confirm his theory.

"Let me guess; you were trying to burn the contents of this pile of documents, but discovered that you couldn't quite bring yourself to destroy them."

He received only a nod in response. Blinking slowly at his companion, he addressed him patronisingly.

"You forgot that to forget, you must first remember. Your mind must first accept your past before you can move on from it."

Lithuania looked up at him, bewildered.

"What? I don't understand."

Estonia shook his head.

"It doesn't matter; you will soon see. Here, I will help you to clear out some of these things out and to decide which to keep and which to throw away."

Lithuania turned to look at him again, this time in surprise.

"You'd do that... for me?"

Estonia smiled knowledgeably.

"Well, it is my duty to help the oppressed. Besides, I've known you for a long time now; we've been through a lot together."

Estonia shifted the pile into his hands, picked himself up from the floor and carried the papers over to the nearby coffee table. There he stood for a moment, shaking the dust off of his clothing. He was joined shortly afterwards by Lithuania, who sat beside him on the settee.

Estonia began to shift through the documents, sorting them into three separate piles. As Lithuania watched him, he realised that one pile contained his memories of Poland, and another his diaries and the like from their time in the Soviet Union. His eyes drifted to the third pile.

"Estonia, what is that?"

Estonia glanced at the paper which Lithuania was looking at, picking it up and holding it up to the light.

"That? That's your, how do I say? Oh, that's right. These are your thoughts, on the point of living and similarly depressing subjects. It seems that you've built up quite a collection over the years. You really should publish them."

Lithuania picked up the pile and flicked through it, examining some of his works.

"Can't I just burn them? Some of this stuff is really depressing."

Estonia took the papers from Lithuania and put them back in their place on the table, privately wondering at what point in time he had been given power over Lithuania's decision-making, and how best to use the fact to the advantage of both of them. He answered firmly.

"No, you can't. You should put them away in an album somewhere to study and to add to. These though, I think that you should burn."

He picked up Lithuania's soviet diaries. Lithuania flinched back at the sight of them, but Estonia forced them into his hands. He continued,

"It is time for you to move on from your painful past. However, before you destroy these, you must make sure to read each one. Swear to me now that you will."

Lithuania momentarily forgot to breathe. He closed his eyes slowly; his brow creased, his body tense.

"Fine, I'll read them."

"Good. Now we must decide what to do with these things."

* * *

Estonia indicated Poland's pile, and Lithuania froze.

"Please, don't make me burn them."

Estonia smiled benevolently at him.

"But of course not. No-one could possibly be that cruel. Don't look at them now though; put them away somewhere so that they don't depress you."

Lithuania began to blush slightly.

"I don't want anyone to know that I have them."

Estonia was unsurprised, if not a little amused, by the sudden change in Lithuania's colouring.

"Then lock them away somewhere and keep the key near to you at all times. When you are ready, you can look at them. I can assure you that I won't be telling anyone anytime soon."

Lithuania fingered the photograph in his hand, the one that had been singed in the fire.

"I hated him, you know."

He spoke quietly; only just loud enough for Estonia to hear him. Estonia waited; quietly, expectantly.

"But I loved him too. I couldn't control it."

Lithuania's eyes were fixated on the damaged picture, his whole body shaking. Estonia extracted the photograph from Lithuania's desperate grasp and placed his hand gently over the other's. After several minutes had passed, and Lithuania's body had relaxed, Estonia met his eyes once more. He looked insistently at the nation, his gaze intent.

"And how do you feel now, Lithuania?"

"Nothing's changed." confessed Lithuania haplessly.

Silence fell between them. Estonia surveyed Lithuania's movements; the nervous tapping of his fingers against his knees, the way he refused to meet the steady gaze of the other. Several more minutes passed, Estonia waiting for Lithuania to be ready.

"It hurt me when he let Russia take me." Lithuania admitted, "It hurt me worse than anything Russia did to me and to my people. I thought that he cared about me. I thought that he would stand by my side and try to protect me. I thought that we were supposed to be together."

Estonia quickly held up his hand to stop Lithuania in his tracks.

"Stop. This will not help you, at least not while there aren't any answers to be found."

Lithuania wiped his eyes, which had once more filled with tears. He sat still, listening to Estonia.

"You need to tell him these things. Write them in a letter to him, or tell him to his face. You've kept them in for long enough now; it's time to move on."

Lithuania could only nod, his fingers running through his hair from stress. Estonia stood up.

"Which pile would you like to begin with?"

* * *

**Inspired by the Baltic trio's song 'Peace Sounds Nice'. Thank you for reading.**


End file.
